


the average of the average is average

by tongari



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-11
Updated: 2008-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tongari/pseuds/tongari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A corporate AU in which throwing glasses at people's heads results in lawsuits and might have eventually nurtured Xanxus to be a gentler sort of employer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the average of the average is average

When Squalo had said, "Xanxus, I will not cut my hair until you take over the firm, swear to god," Xanxus had not actually taken him seriously. It was the night they finally went drinking after completing their first merger. A flock of girls had come to roost between the boys; between the floating faces and the drink he could barely tell boys and girls apart. In the end he had resorted to touching the ends of the girls' long hair and shouting for Squalo to remind him of important things to do tomorrow. If he thinks back about it now he remembers Squalo's face looking at him over a bare shoulder, soft locks of hair in his hand, an exquisitely soft buttock against his thigh. All faces are blurred except for Squalo's because it is so thin and sharp and those fierce glassy pupils are so angry because they are not being taken seriously. "Are you taking me seriously?" Squalo had demanded. "Yes!" Xanxus had replied, because as much as one loves girls and booze the continuation of girls and booze hinges upon getting up at the right time tomorrow and saying the right things to the right person, preferably in the right building. "I take work and girls and booze seriously so the average of the average is average and therefore I also take you seriously, now dammit conference call at ten tomorrow! With the Germans! Remind me!" "I have faith in your abilities, but sometimes it seems you do not take things seriously, Xanxus!" Squalo had then said, and Xanxus had said, "What?" and Squalo had said, "Xanxus, I will not cut my hair until you take over the firm, swear to god," and Xanxus said, "Conference call!" and Squalo waved his hand and Xanxus thought nothing more of it.

They had all been young then with their collars still stiff and pointed and their leather shoes shiny and when they straightened the lapels of their new suits they became excited by the smooth heavy expensive feel of the fabric against their fingers. Today they wear suits like a second skin, ties like throats, cufflinks like fingernails. Someone else selects their shoes and buys them in the right sizes - stretched and polished - and delivers them straight to the office. Xanxus doesn't even look at his wardrobe to select what he will wear any more, he has someone to do that for him. Someone else will figure out what colours work with what textures and patterns and what will be suitable for the times. Someone else even tells him how he should cut his hair and then calls up the stylist and arranges for an appointment and the cab to take him there. But Xanxus resents every trip he makes to get his hair cut. The cab is always huge and the seat beside him is always empty and anyway what is he thinking, this is stupid, clearly it should be just Squalo in the cab with his silver hair spilling over the spare seats going to get it all cut off and become human again.

Xanxus returns from his haircut zealous, refreshed, trimmed; calls Squalo into his office immediately. It's very, very important. Therefore Squalo takes forever to get there and when he does he's still talking on the phone, he has his hair clipped up over one ear so it won't get in the way. This pisses Xanxus off immensely, how much more trouble could you go to just to keep a stupid promise you made when you were drunk ten years ago?... The answer arrives when Squalo hangs up and sits down and, just before sitting down, tilts his head to one side and puts a hand at the nape of his neck to save his hair from getting trapped between his back and the back of the chair. Xanxus looks at it hanging endlessly over the back of the chair, feet upon feet upon yard of it.

"Heeeey, boss?"

"Squalo," Xanxus says, "you must get your hair cut."

"I don't have the time!" Squalo replies. "I'm very busy right now!"

"Squalo," Xanxus tries again. "Get your goddamn hair cut or I'll beat the shit out of you and then send you to get your hair cut, swear to god."

"That is not a statement I can make conversation with!" Squalo said. His voice lends itself naturally to end in exclamation points, accusations, implications. "Is this how you speak to our stakeholders?"

"They won't notice," Xanxus says, "they're too busy trying to decide what gender you are."

"And is this necessarily a bad thing?"

"It annoys me."

"But it generates more money!"

"Sort of. But it really annoys me and that's more trouble than the money's worth! And what the hell do you need more money for anyway?" This is pure rhetoric; Xanxus has seen Squalo out shopping with Lussuria, glimpsed their credit card bills.

"I'd spend it on my hair."

"Squalo!"

"It takes effort!"

"The longer you keep your hair, the more distracted and confused our clients and rivals become!"

"But that is good for business!"

"But I also become more distracted and confused!"

"Why are you also distracted and confused?"

"Because, a long time ago!"

Xanxus stops here because the shouting is drawing the attention of the other people in the office, who are walking past his office and purposely not looking in. He goes to the door, opens it and shouts, "Eavesdroppers will be shot on sight!" He closes the door again and returns to his desk.

"How can you see eavesdroppers?" Squalo asks.

"With my eyes," Xanxus says. "I see them, and then I beat the shit out of them and leave them to die. In the rain. Alone."

"Sucks to be an eavesdropper around you."

"Yes. Squalo, you will cut your hair."

"I refuse!"

"Do not scream at me!"

"I am not screaming!"

Actually he is screaming but Xanxus has long ago figured out that since Squalo speaks in screams all the time it sounds like normal speech to him and by these standards he hasn't really screamed for a long time yet. The average of the average is average.

"At least trim it."

"Absolutely not! I have principles! Anyway once you take over I'll cut it as short as it was before!"

"This is not about the length of your hair!"

"Then what is it about?"

"This is about that stupid promise you keep bringing up!" Xanxus says, although uneasy memories of his mother and the way she used to speak to his stepfather (and memories of his ex-girlfriends, and the way they used to speak to him) are beginning to show their fins.

"Yes, how true, that stupid promise!" Squalo screams, and then he walks out and shuts the door behind him. Xanxus half-heartedly hopes Squalo will get some of his hair trapped in the door as it shut and be compelled to open it and show his face again. Alas, Squalo's hair management skills have been well-honed by a decade of practice and thus all Xanxus sees is the door shutting on a blinding flash of quicksilver. Xanxus sits down and opens his email, but finds himself unable to write civilized replies and has to beat his old Minesweeper top score before he can calm down enough to resume work.

Throughout the day he has the urge to spam the staff mailing list with memorandums of reminder written in a non-accusatory but rebuking tone, referring to company dress and conduct policies and how you are all big boys and girls now... He restrains himself until Squalo appears at the door to inform him that Bel is calling the gourmet food delivery service again and to tell Bel if he wants anything. Perhaps second-guessing the in potentia existence of Xanxus's unwritten memorandum, guided by the instinct that has helped him survive a decade of working for Xanxus, he has tied his hair back into a ponytail and when he stands in the doorway none of it is visible below his shoulders.

"That is a ridiculously expensive food delivery service," Xanxus says, "why are we using it? Is Bel's team rushing something for deadline?"

"It's standard," Squalo says, "everyone uses it. Even Forward Planning. The bastards," he added, out of habit.

"It is an asinine policy," Xanxus says. "I checked out the company, half their board is related to our CFO... And we're their only clients."

"Well, you can get rid of all those policies when you're in charge."

"Squalo," Xanxus said, and what he wanted to ask was difficult to say and went something like, why do you constantly remind me of something I decided I wanted ten years ago and which I keep wondering if I should still go after now and which you seem to have absolutely no doubt that I deserve despite the fact that I have recently realized I do not treat you very well and from time to time in the light of this discovery wish I could begin to treat you even a little less abrasively? In the end he just asked, "What is it like having such long hair?"

"Heeeeeeeh?"

"How the hell do you put up with it? Doesn't it piss you off sometimes? What makes it worth it?"

"Eh, it's not too bad," Squalo says. "I thought it would be annoying to stick to but it wasn't that bad after all. And anyway it doesn't grow so much once it's this long. And it's kind of nice to have although I'm absolutely not vain about it of course!"

"So once I take over, you will cut it off."

"Of course!" Squalo says, although he scowls as he rubs the back of his neck.

"You won't miss it?"

"Hell no!"

"You don't have to cut it all off," Xanxus says. "I would have trouble getting used to it and that would just really piss me off I can tell you."

"Heeeeeh... What the hell?"

"Most of the guys wear their hair short anyway and what good does it do? Can't tell them apart from one another. Pisses me off no end. The average of the average is just the average. Who the hell wants to go to so much trouble to stay average?"

"Boss," Squalo says, "is this some kind of case study?"

"Anyway, I'm going out for dinner," Xanxus says, "so forget it. Tell Bel if he charges overtime and his team is just kicking about doing nothing I'll skin him alive. Slowly. With letter-openers. And leave the goddamn door open, it's hot in here."

Squalo wedges a doorstop under the edge of the door to hold it open, turns to Xanxus with his mouth open, stands there with one hand half-raised, stops, shuts his mouth, puts his hands back in his pockets, continues staring at Xanxus, mouth beginning to curl with a confused scowl, eyes focusing into pinpoints of uncertain emotion. Xanxus says, "Get the hell out," and Squalo says, "I wasn't waiting for you to tell me!" and turns around and leaves, stalking across carpeted acres of office corridor in long furious strides. Xanxus raises his head. Through the open door he can see Squalo's departing back, outlined perfectly by the cut of his fitted work shirt and tailored slim-legged slacks. The long white ponytail fastened by a black clip at the nape of his neck flows slowly downward, swaying between sharp hunched shoulders and black pinstriped wool tight across the seat of his trousers and long angry legs going on forever and ever.


End file.
